


Crazy Girl, Seen It All

by Diary



Category: Glee
Genre: Bechdel Test Fail, Bottle Episode Fic, Canon Character of Color, Canon Gay Character, Canon Lesbian Character, Conversations, Gen, Hospital Setting, Love, Male-Female Friendship, POV David Karofsky, POV Male Character, POV Queer Character, Past Suicide Attempt, Post-Episode: s03e14 On My Way, Season/Series 03
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-26
Updated: 2016-03-26
Packaged: 2018-05-29 04:29:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6359338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diary/pseuds/Diary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Repost. After Dave's suicide attempt, Santana visits him. Complete.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crazy Girl, Seen It All

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Glee.

Santana begins screaming in Spanish.

Dave is worried about how nonchalant the orderlies and doctor is.

“Friend of yours,” Doctor O’Hara inquires.

Watching a tiny girl valiantly struggling against two men who are both six feet and over two hundred pounds seems like something he’d find in one of the romantic screenplays his cousin writes for fun.

“I guess so,” he says with his throat protesting every word.

Clicking his pen and tucking it into a pocket, Doctor O’Hara turns. “Miss,” he says, and somehow, this makes Santana stop yelling and attempting to bite, “if you want to visit David, that’s fine, but we take the safely of our patients very seriously. Absolutely no hitting, and please, resist the urge to yell.”

Santana says something in Spanish, and Dave has the feeling she’s already scanned the room for improvised weapons and is figuring out the angle to best kick him at and possibly wondering if punching falls under the definition of hitting. The not yelling won’t be a problem; she’s gotten hissing and speaking sharply at a soft volume down pat.

Dave thinks he should probably stop reading those screenplays his cousin sends.

“Fine,” she mutters.

The orderlies release her, and Doctor O’Hara leads them out. “I’ll be back in an hour.”

Once they’re gone, Santana mutters in Spanish as she drags a chair over and sits down.

Finally, the silence is too much, and he croaks out, “So-”

Standing up, she pours more water into his plastic cup and hands it to him.

He takes a drink.

“Nine calls. He got nine calls. I didn’t even get one.”

“Why are you here?”

“Because I’m worried,” she snaps. “Shit, I broke into your room when my parents found out. You couldn’t have called and said, ‘Hey, I’m about to wrap a freaking belt around my neck, come and kick my ass?’”

Not answering, he looks down at the cup.

When she came over at two or three or four in the morning, he’d just wanted her gone. At one point, he’d tried to get her to sleep in his truck until morning.

He can now see how harsh this was.

“You make it seem like we’re friends,” he says. “You blackmailed me, and I went along with it. What have I ever done to really help you?”

She scoffs and calls him words he doubts belong to either English or Spanish. “Fine. We weren’t friends. That doesn’t mean I want you dead. I would have been there.”

“Thanks.” He looks away.

“It’s okay to cry,” she says, and he’s alarmed by the fact it sounds like she might be.

He looks up, and she reaches over and takes his hand. Tears fall down her face, and he realises this is different from all the times she sobbed loudly in the hallways.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

“I have a tia who’s into some weird religion involving the dead,” she tells him. “If you ever decide to do something like this again, you’d better call me. If you don’t, I’ll learn how to control the dead or whatever and make sure you never have any peace. Ever.”

“Got it,” he says. “How’s Kurt?”

“Heartbroken,” she snaps. “St. Gay keeps blaming himself. It’s your fault, and when he visits tomorrow, you get to deal with it.”

“He’s visiting tomorrow?” He feels a stomachache forming.

“Yes,” she answers. “And no, you don’t get a say.” 

Dave’s used to saying, ‘Just kill me, now,’ during situations like this, but he catches himself. There’s a good possibility Santana will either start crying again, kick and possibly punch him while grabbing the nearest weapon-like object, or both.

“Got it.”

“Good,” she says. Taking a breath and letting go of his hand, she continues, “Look, I’m going to go buy a soda, and then, you’re going to watch our rehearsal. The new Irish kid taped it while Britt was giving him recording lessons. I look super-hot, and I’m sure Kurt, aside from looking sad, will definitely do something for you.”

“Is his boyfriend in it?”

Shrugging, Santana gets up. “Drink some more water. Your voice is giving me throat pains.”


End file.
